Intervention
by FairDrea
Summary: When an addiction runs too deep, Leo, Raph and Donnie feel the need to get involved and save their youngest brother before it’s too late.


This was just a little fun to have since I haven't written in a while and needed a creative jump start to a Halloween fic I'm in the process of transferring from paper to computer. Just something short and fun. Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything TMNT, Intervention or Madden related. And to all people who have lost friends/boyfriends/husbands/brothers to this pandemic…my deepest condolences. I'm right there with you.

**Intervention**

"Was he like this when I was gone?"

"Nah, not really. I mean…he was bad but…not this bad."

Leonardo watched his youngest brother, his brows drawn in worry. Michelangelo was sitting on the couch, shoulders slumped, bleary eyes staring ahead into nothing. There was no trace of the exuberant young mutant whose energy could normally not be contained. There was nothing of the Michelangelo they knew left to be seen in the lump of unmotivated mutant sticking to the couch.

"Guess we know where his cut of the profits went from his old job," Donatello mused.

The three older brothers stood in the entrance of the dojo. They'd been watching Michelangelo for a while now, each of them equally concerned for the wellbeing of their little brother. None of them liked to see him this way. They would rather, as much as they hated to admit it, have their optimistic, energetic, too-annoying-for-his-own-good-in-his-enthusiasm brother back.

"So," Raphael stated, absentmindedly twirling a sia at his side in an attempt to appear outwardly calm. Donatello and Leonardo saw the action for what it was though – pent up agitation. "What are we gonna do? Stage some kinda family intervention?"

Leonardo sighed softly and turned away from the depressing scene in the living room. "I've thought over a lot of possibilities and scenarios and that seems the best way to go right now. This has gone on too long. He's not training anymore, I haven't seen him on his skateboard in weeks. What he's doing is destructive."

Raphael smirked but the deviousness of it never reached his eyes. "I'd be more than happy to hold him down for ya."

"I'm sure you would, Raph. But I doubt that would be necessary. Maybe we can just…I don't know. Maybe he'll let us talk to him."

"I doubt it," Donatello muttered. "Have you ever watched the show Intervention? The theory is good but teaming up against an addict is generally a bad idea. They tend to get their defenses up fast. They don't see things the way non-addicts do and tend to take things personally, even if the intentions are harmless. Knowing Mikey, he would probably deny it and have a good laugh at all of us," he added somewhat sadly.

"Eh, I'll just pound on him a bit if he does that," Raphael muttered.

"Raph, violence isn't going to help the situation."

"Well if tryin' to talk to him isn't going to help it either, what is, Leo?"

Leonardo ran a hand over his face, emitting an exhausted sigh. He didn't want to have to deal with this – not now, not ever. "Okay…I'll make you a deal." He looked up at Raphael. "Only if the situation calls for it, okay?"

"Deal."

"Let's get this over with."

The three moved into the living room area and took up various positions around Michelangelo. The youngest did not notice them at all, too far gone to pay much attention to anything surrounding him. It wasn't until Leonardo softly cleared his throat that he realized he was no longer alone. His blood shot eyes blinked several times, the fog slowly clearing and he focused on the three. "Hey guys, what's up?" he asked, his voice harsh from lack of recent use.

"Mikey, we need to talk," Leonardo started. He was the leader - it was only fitting that he be the one to start out this ugly process. It was the one time in his life his status was an inconvenience to him. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There were other times – but this one seemed to be the only one relevant at the time. "We're worried about you Mikey. You've been sitting here, completely listless for days. You don't do anything, you haven't eaten or drank anything in days."

Michelangelo shrugged off the comment. "So? Usually you're always pissed at me for eatin' everything in the lair anyway. I'd think this would actually be a nice change for you guys."

"Well, that part of it is," Raphael conceded, glaring at Donatello when he elbowed him hard in the arm.

"The point here is we're worried about you," Leonardo pressed on. He looked over at Donatello, feeling the need for some kind of approval in his approach. Donatello nodded and Leonardo drew a deep breath. "You've been stuck to the couch for days. You're not training, you're not participating in the team." He ignored the way Raphael rolled his eyes at the word 'team'. "This has to stop, Mikey. You're not…you anymore."

Michelangelo gave him an affronted look. "What do you mean, I'm not me anymore?"

"When's the last time you took your skateboard out?" Donatello asked.

The youngest shrugged. "I dunno. Its winter, dude. I'm not all for freezin' my tail off just to get in a little grindin' action. Sorry."

"That never stopped ya before." Raph nudged Michelangelo affectionately. "You used to wake me up every mornin' by bargin' into my room, jumpin' on my bed and screamin' cowabunga."

"See, now that's just common sense. I stopped doing that and in turn, stopped getting thrown into your wall for my unappreciated efforts."

"Mikey, you need to gain some control over what you're doing," Leonardo interjected, leaning forward in his chair. "Right now, you're letting your addiction control you. If there is one thing that our training has taught us, it's that a true ninja is always in control and aware of himself and his environment."

"Holy crap, he's bringing out the rule book." Michelangelo rolled his eyes and sighed. "There's nothing ninja about what I'm doing, Leo. That's the _point!_ This isn't training, this isn't the rules, this is the one thing I can do that's me and that no one else _but_ me regulates."

"But you're not regulating it, Mikey," Donatello insisted. "You're doing the exact opposite of it. You have no control over this!"

"The hell I don't!" Michelangelo yelled, his baby blue eyes glittering with anger.

Tension mounted in the silence, each of the three older brothers squaring off with their youngest. Leonardo knew they were getting nowhere fast. This intervention was failing miserably. He looked up, his gaze meeting Raphael's. He saw the unspoken question and sighed, his shoulders sagging.

"I think the situation calls for it, Leo," he muttered.

"Calls for what?" Michelangelo looked back and forth between Leonardo and Raphael, his brows drawn in a mix of confusion and concern. "What?" he repeated.

The oldest cast his gaze skyward, then closed them and nodded once.

"Leo, what the he-." Michelangelo's words cut off on a strangled "Ack!" as Raphael tackled him off the couch and onto the ground. "Get off me!" he yelled, all the while maintaining his iron grip on his gaming controller.

"No! You asked for it Mikey. You haven't taken a break from this damn thing in weeks! We want our little brother back and we sure as hell want our TV back!"

"NO!" Michelangelo struggled wildly against him, his cries intensifying when Raphael ripped the controller from his hand. "No! I've almost got the thing beat! Come on guys, it's a new game!! I can't help it! I have to play! I _need_ to play!!" He grasped frantically for the remote, screaming a girlish scream when Raphael kicked it and it bounced off the coffee table, its momentum ripping the cord from his treasured PS3. "NO!! Raph, please…dude, just let me go!"

"This is for your own good, Mikey!" the older brother growled, hoisting Michelangelo to his feet. Noticing Raphael didn't have the best hold on the squirming Michelangelo, Leonardo and Donatello moved to intercept him, taking him by the arms.

"Come on Mikey, it's time to say goodnight to John Madden," Donatello coaxed softly.

"But…but my league! My draft!!! He's the only one who really understands me!" Michelangelo wailed, fighting against his older brothers as they pulled him further and further away from his fix. "John…forgive me John!! They made me do it! They made me give you up!!"

Raphael watched as his three brothers disappeared down the hallway to Michelangelo's room, shaking his head. "Freakin ridiculous," he muttered, walking back to the TV and connecting the controller back to the PS3. Once the game was reset, he picked up the controller and sank into the couch with a loud sigh, putting his feet up on the coffee table and settling back. "Been waitin' way too long to fine tune my fantasy draft."

A half an hour and one calmed down and fed Michelangelo later, Leonardo walked back into the living room. He stopped short when he saw Raphael on the couch, his elbows propped on his knees and that same glazed, fixated look Michelangelo had on early fixed firmly on his face. "Aw shell," he muttered, then called back over his shoulder, "Donnie! Round two!"


End file.
